


Slow Dancing In The Dark

by Analphancones



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Drabble, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mistress, Pregnancy, Sad, Unrequited Love, not mpreg, phil is married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 00:33:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16862887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Analphancones/pseuds/Analphancones
Summary: "Why do I get such mixed feelings when you look at me like that? On one hand, you look at me like I am the only thing on your mind. On the other hand, I am forced to be aware that look is for someone else. You’re looking at me as if I am her again.When she is out with friends, or has left town to visit family as she is tonight, you call me. We kiss, we fuck, you tell me I should go the second you’ve had your fill. I always listen too. Tonight, for whatever reason, is different. You seek companionship. After all, she has been gone for nearly two weeks. I am second best.You play with my hair, since your ideal lover and your second choice look so much alike, I bet it’s real easy for you to pretend. Maybe that's why you chose me as your backup."





	Slow Dancing In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this thinking about my personal feelings with the song Slow Dancing In The Dark by Joji. I wrote this based off two past experiences with ex-lovers. Please enjoy this fic, it's one of the few good things that come from this kind of pain. 
> 
> For updates on when I post my writing, my snapchat is- analphancones 
> 
> For smut only see my tumblr- analphancones

Why do I get such mixed feelings when you look at me like that? On one hand, you look at me like I am the only thing on your mind. On the other hand, I am forced to be aware that look is for someone else. You’re looking at me as if I am her again. Who I know you would rather be spending these late hours with. 

When she is out with friends, or has left town to visit family as she is tonight, you call me. We kiss, we fuck, you tell me I should go the second you’ve had your fill. I always listen too. Tonight, for whatever reason, is different. You seek companionship. After all, she has been gone for nearly two weeks. I am second best. 

You play with my hair, since your ideal lover and your second choice look so much alike, I bet it’s real easy for you to pretend. Maybe that's why you chose me as your backup. 

My mother and father, and of course, my sister Lana all invited me on the family trip for Christmas. Of course, I said no. I knew if she was gone for a prolonged time, I would be your primary focus, if only for a few nights. 

When we first slept together, two years ago. I was 18 and still lived with mum and dad. Lana brought you round to meet the parents. I suppose you did what she intended, but then when she left you high and dry, refusing to have sex in her childhood home, you came and saw me. 

At first it was friendly. A game of Mario Kart, a few jokes, a couple drinks. Then you told me about how my eyes are just like my sisters except deeper. How in hers it's the softness of fall, but beyond that in mine you saw pools of thought. Of emotion. Of something you couldn’t quite make out. I knew I was in love the moment you spoke those solemn words to me, your hand on my cheek, fingers slipping through the side of my hair as we got closer and closer to each other.

I made love for the first time that night. Only for the sun to come up and ruin it. It ruined it because as I slipped off into unconsciousness, you uttered the word, “shit,”, under your breath, dressing yourself with haste and making your way back to where your then sleeping fiance slept without you. 

I thought nothing of it in the months that followed, the emotion I had toward the subject initially, subsiding. Until I moved to Manchester for Uni. Until I moved just close enough to you, we could “be friends” as you called it. When Lana was out with her girlfriends, you would come to my dorm. 

Wordlessly, you would kiss me as soon as the door opened. You would push me into my bed, undressing me and mumbling sweet nothing to me as your lips pressed against every inch of my body you wished to explore. 

“God, what you do to me..” You’d breath against my hip bone, hand on my inner thigh, pushing my legs apart as you pulled off my bottoms. “Ever since our first time, you’re the only person I wanna make love to..” 

Why would you call it making love if you did not love me? I never asked you that though, I instead moaned into the touch and was always available at your beck and call. You made me feel so good, I felt so connected to you mentally and physically, how could I just walk away from you? You made me euphoric in more ways than one. 

There were, of course, the days we spent together without the sex. The days of shocking splendor folded in with days of cold surrender and shrugged off forgotten whatevers. We had those poetic, melancholy days together as well, yes. 

The days of Halo 3 and ordering food. The days of inside jokes and laughing endlessly at humor of our own creation. The days of doors slammed in faces, crying, forgiveness. We always forgive and forget. Afterall, how can I just stop speaking to my brother in law without explanation? My two options are ruin what Lana and you have, or ruin what Lana and I have. 

Be shunned from the family for enabling such a disgusting act as letting my sister’s now husband have an affair. There doesn’t seem like a good way out. And beside that, I love you. 

I love the way your skin feels. Like the back of the softest fallen leaf. Like the rim of a newly uncorked wine bottle. Like all of the little things you’d soon forget the sensation of. Unless of course, you wrote it down because it was just so different and amazing you couldn't let the thought escape you like that. 

I love the way your voice sounds. Like the revving of a z3. Like dark chocolate. Like the brewing of gas station coffee. I could listen to you talk for hours and never get bored. Especially your laugh, when you bite your tongue I lose my mind. How can someone do this to me? I could have never imagined. 

I love when you share your dreams. How someday, all you want, is to make people happy. Produce content nobody else had. I was never religious but somehow, every night, I found time to pray your channel took off. I knew how important it was to you. 

I could go on forever with what about you, specifically, I loved. 

Could you do the same for me? I so doubt it. As the only positive affirmation I ever receive from you is about sex. Somedays you’ll throw in a kiss just because, or another token of affection You’ll slip and call me beautiful, or baby, or babe. But mostly, it was about how sexy I was, How badly you wanted me. How good I looked under you, how bad you wanted me, etc. 

I never questioned things. Instead, as every time, I let you take my body. I let you collide our worlds for just another few hours. I let you make me writhe, show me how to take my first real breath all over again. I let you, as if it’s our first time all over again, show me all the splendors the world has to offer. 

We fall asleep after, we never do that but since Lana would be gone until next Friday, you make an exception and let me snuggle into you as if I really was who you wished was under your arm instead. My eyes peer open to sun-soaked blinds, the blanket draped over my waist and you, my sometimes lover, your arm is over my chest. 

I roll out of the bed and walk to the bathroom, flipping the switch and turning on the shower. I slowly stripped and let the warm water cleanse me, yet still feeling no less dirty than I had when I stepped in. I wrapped a towel around my hips after lightly air drying my hair, exiting into the living room to find last night's clothes. I was mentally preparing or my walk of shame. 

I stopped in my tracks, blinking twice to make sure what I was seeing was real. Why was Lana on the couch? 

What is she holding…? 

She’s crying. 

“Are you fucking serious?!” She screams, throwing a pillow at me. I clutch my towel, swallowing a breath. I stuttered but words wouldn’t form. “I knew he was having an affair but with you?! DAN ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” 

“Lana..” I tried to swallow but my mouth was dry. 

Before I could think, you are bustling down the hallway only half dressed. 

“What are you doing home so early?” You ask shakily, eyes darting to me slyly. I knew what you are indicating. We’d spoke about this before. Never confess unless we were for sure caught. I finally was able to swallow. You were here now. 

She throws the small she held at him, standing up and grabbing her bags. “You will //never// meet our daughter.” She hissed, smacking me square across the face before slamming the front door shut, leaving us both stunned. 

“Phil..” I move to comfort you, a part of me hopeful now that she is gone you and I can start anew. 

You push me off, push me down and scream. “Get the fuck out! You’ve ruined everything!” Are you just getting everything out or are you serious? I have no idea as a few moments go by. Then you kick me in the side and shout again. “FUCKING GO!” You scream at the top of your lungs. In pain I rush to grab my clothes, dressing as fast as I can as I get to the door. 

And when I am outside, I slide to the floor and cry. 

And I cry the next day. 

I cry into next year. 

I cry until I see you again. With a different girl, maybe a different mistress too. A child holds your hand and she looks like Lana. I guess my sister learned to forgive and forget as I had when I was his mistress last. 

His eyes meet mine briefly, and briefly, I smile. He only scowls and turns his attention to his new lover, walking down the sidewalk with his back to me. 

Then, I cried some more.


End file.
